Gross Pheromones Pt. 03

Author's Note: This is a fetish story involving gross bodily functions.

*****

My name is Emily. I'm a gross person.

My guts produce a kind of aphrodisiac - a sex pheromone - that gets released into the air whenever I poop or fart. Anyone who inhales it, including me, will get sexually aroused.

In my mid-20s, my pheromones were getting stronger and stronger. I'd had a few fun experiences, but also a lot of awkwardness.

This story is one of the awkward ones, I'm afraid. It happened about a month after my last story... the one where I'd accidentally started a threesome while vising my best friend Kat.

I hadn't seen Kat again since then. She lived a few hours away, trying to finish her bachelors degree, and I didn't have time to visit often. Talking and texting just wasn't the same. She didn't have many friends at school, and she sounded more depressed every time we spoke.

So we decided to take a long weekend and drive up to Canada together. It would be a girls' weekend, just the two of us.

She picked me up Thursday night after I left work, and we crossed the border around midnight. We were visiting a lakeside town with lots of cycling trails and cheap bars - a good spot for bachelor parties.

On Friday morning, we biked around the lake. Then we ate a huge lunch, drank a half-pitcher of sangria, and took a nap in our room together. It was a good day.

When Friday evening rolled around, we got dressed to go out. I put on some lip gloss, but otherwise I just wore my hoodie and jeans. Kat, on the other hand, looked absolutely gorgeous with just a touch of makeup. With her black button-down shirt, torn jeans, and kick-ass boots, she looked like a singer in an indie-rock band.

"I feel invisible next to you," I told her.

She laughed, smiling. "Shut up. You look great, Emily."

In the back of my mind, as usual, I was wondering about my next chance to poop. Our room was very small - not a good place to release sex pheromones - but my stomach felt unsettled after lunch. I didn't think I could hold it all weekend.

We went to a bar and listened to a live band for a while. I picked at a plate of french fries, nursing a beer.

"You're not hungry?" Kat asked.

I shrugged. "Maybe I ate too much at lunch."

Between sets, I watched our drinks while Kat went to pee. My stomach felt weirdly full. Sitting alone at the bar, I tried to fart a little, but I couldn't force any gas out.

When Kat came back, she had two boys flirting with her - two slick-haired, freshly-showered college guys. One was muscular, and the other wore glasses. Neither looked older than 21.

They were cute enough, though, and they were clearly smitten with Kat. She was grinning, enjoying their attention. They ignored me as we talked, but I didn't mind; I just wanted Kat to have fun this weekend.

When the muscular one made a joke, she touched his shoulder as she giggled.

I was about to say something to the nerdy-looking guy, but suddenly a stomach cramp hit me. I winced, almost falling off my bar stool.

"You all right, Emily?" Kat asked.

"Yeah," I grunted. "No worries."

I knew something was wrong, but I managed to hide it a little longer. I sipped my beer and talked to the nerdy boy for a few minutes, leaving Kat to flirt with the other one.

But my stomach kept twisting up painfully. After a few minutes, I couldn't pretend to be okay anymore. I excused myself and headed for the restrooms.

Unfortunately, the women's room had a line. Almost half a dozen people stood outside the door. I waited at the back, squirming from the strange pressure in my guts.

I thought it was just gas - nothing but a big, bad fart from lunch - but it hurt and needed to come out.

I couldn't stand it for long. With three women still ahead of me, I decided to release a little of my gas. Just a tiny bit, I told myself.

I painfully squeezed myself closed, holding back what felt like a gallon of diarrhea.

The other women in line hadn't noticed anything, but my guts felt like they could explode at any moment. I jumped off the bathroom line and dashed into the men's room instead.

The men's room was multiple-occupancy, where you could come and go freely. A guy was peeing at a urinal when I burst in, but he didn't look up at me.

Struggling to hold my sphincter shut, I rushed into the stall, slammed the door closed, and yanked down my jeans. The last few seconds were the worst. My butt touched the toilet seat... and then my whole digestive system erupted.

It was a bad shit. Painful. Noisy gas and diarrhea blasted out of me, like firing a cannon into the bowl. Awful cramps made me clutch my stomach. My asshole burned like hell. The smell came fast and strong, with an unhealthy metallic stink.

"Jesus," I heard the man at the urinal mutter.

I tried not to groan - my voice would reveal that I was a woman - but I couldn't prevent the terrible noises or smell I was producing. The diarrhea shot out so hard it splashed back, and I felt the spray against my butt cheeks. The sound of each emission seemed unbelievably loud.

I lowered my face, mortified.

My underwear was ruined, I noticed. A wet streak of brown ran down the center.

My eyes felt hot with tears. I just pooped my pants, I thought. I hadn't pooped myself since I was a little girl...

Taking a deep breath, I pulled off my jeans and dirty underwear. With two fingers, I grabbed the undies and tossed them aside onto the bathroom floor.

I continued spray-painting the toilet bowl for minutes on end. More guys walked in, pissed at the urinal, and left without washing their hands. They all heard and smelled me shitting. I burned with shame, unable to hold anything back.

Luckily, there was toilet paper. When my insides finally felt empty, I went through half a roll trying to get clean. My butt cheeks were wet with splashback, and the whole area around my asshole was a gooey swamp.

After what seemed like an hour, I pulled my jeans back on - going commando for now - and stood cautiously. My knees shook, and my face was sweating. My stomach still felt queasy, too.

Kat was still talking to the two boys when I came back. The moment she saw me, she almost dropped her beer. She approached quickly and touched my shoulder.

"You look pale," she said in a low voice. "Is everything all right?"

I shook my head. "I'm heading back to the room," I said. "You should stay here, though. Have fun with the guys."

She made a clucking noise, like a worried mom. "I'm going with you."

We apologized to the two boys, and Kat led me outside. As we walked back to our room, I admitted I'd had diarrhea.

"What the hell did I eat?" I wondered aloud. "I thought lunch was - just fine!"

My voice cracked as I spoke. I was struggling not to cry.

Kat touched my arm again. "I'm so sorry, Emily."

Swallowing, I said, "You should really stay out if you..."

I stopped, feeling a sudden surge of nausea. I looked around for a spot to throw up, but there was no place - and no time.

"Emily?" Kat asked.

I started barfing on the sidewalk.

* * *

Dark brown liquid suddenly spilled from Emily's mouth, catching her almost mid-sentence. It fell onto the sidewalk, splattering, as she put her hands on her knees.

Her mouth opened wide. A terrible retching sound arose from her throat. Then her body heaved painfully, and another torrent of loose, soupy vomit began to pour from her. It splashed in all directions when it hit the ground.

For a few seconds I stood frozen, shocked, and then I noticed Emily's hair dangling in front of her face. I pulled it back, but it was already wet.

"Emily!" I cried. I didn't know what else I could do.

We had walked a few blocks from the bar at this point, and luckily the streets weren't full of people. I saw a group of girls watching us from across the street, and I waved at them to move along.

A wide pool of vomit lay at Emily's feet, with droplets spread across our jeans and shoes. She spat onto it, breathing raggedly. She was holding her body perfectly still.

Suddenly, her back heaved again. She gave a painful gagging noise, and another fountain of puke splattered against the sidewalk.

I rubbed her shoulders, still holding her wet hair in my other hand. "It's okay," I murmured. "Just let it out..."

Emily retched another two or three times, emptying her stomach. A scary amount of liquid poured out of her, but I tried not to show my worry.

Finally she straightened, wiping her mouth. She hung her head, unable to make eye contact with me.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled.

Emily looked terrible. She was pale and cool to the touch. A mouthful of vomit had dribbled down the front of her hoodie, and I saw chunks of it in her hair.

"Can you walk?" I asked.

She nodded. "Let's just go."

We stepped over the puddle she'd left. As we walked, Emily held my arm for support. I felt her body shaking, and she was crying a little.

"Don't be. You just ate something that didn't agree with you, and your body's getting rid of it."

I guess I have strong caretaking instincts. In this moment, I felt closer to my best friend than ever. Ignoring the vomit on our clothes, I put my hand around Emily's waist and held her tight.

She leaned against me gratefully. "I'm glad you're here, Kat."

I felt a small flutter in my chest.

Over the last year, my friendship with Emily had gotten complicated. I'd always thought I was basically straight. Since I mostly liked guys, I thought my occasional girl-crushes were normal.

But with Emily, I couldn't pretend to be straight anymore.

My mind kept flashing back to that threesome we'd had last month. I kept picturing the way she rode Will's dick - the way she moved her hips - as she got lost in her own pleasure. She didn't even hear his warning that he was cumming.

I wished I could give Emily pleasure like that. I wished I had a load of cum I could shoot inside her. Most of all, I wished I could just kiss her, and she could kiss me back like she really wanted me.

That was the sad part, of course. I knew her better than anyone... and I knew she only liked boys.

I didn't know what to do with my feelings.

It seemed like an hour before we made it back to our room. I stopped Emily just inside the doorway.

"Let's leave our dirty clothes here," I said.

Emily nodded weakly and started pulling off her hoodie. I took off my shoes and pants - my top looked clean, actually - and walked to the bathroom for a box of tissues.

When I came back, Emily was naked except for her bra. She stood bare-assed above a pile of her discarded clothing. I started wiping her hair clean, pulling at it with tissues.

"You didn't need to take your underwear off," I told her.

She slouched a little. "I had to throw it away earlier."

It took a second to realize what she meant: she'd pooped her pants. "Oh," I said lightly. "Well, that happens sometimes."

Now that we were indoors, I could smell the vomit on our clothing. It had a sour stink, a mix of stomach acid and bad food.

Strangely, I felt myself growing aroused as I cleaned Emily's hair. My fingers brushed the skin of her neck, letting the touch linger. My eyes drifted downwards, to the curve of her bare hips...

Stop it, I scolded myself. She's sick.

But I kept getting hornier. My skin tingled, wanting to be touched, and I couldn't stop staring at Emily's naked ass.

To my relief, she didn't notice my excitement. The moment I finished cleaning her hair, she walked to the bed and flopped down face-first. Her arms and legs splayed out across the covers.

"I feel like shit," she moaned into a pillow.

I bit my lip. "You'll feel better tomorrow..."

"Mrrr," she groaned.

I stood staring at Emily as she lay face-down on the bed. She wore nothing but a bra, and her smooth butt cheeks filled my vision. I held my breath, yearning for her.

Even when she was sick, Emily was a striking woman. She looked nothing like a magazine model, but she seemed to pulse with sexuality. Her light brown hair fanned out across the pillow. A colorful series of tattoos decorated her left arm and shoulder. She had natural body hair, with soft fuzz on her legs and underarms. The hair grew thicker on her upper thighs, which were parted slightly. I could see a heavy bush between her legs... and just a hint of her prominent pussy lips.

Hoping to clear my head, I got dressed and ran to the convenience store. I bought Gatorade, saltine crackers, and some nice shampoo.

I was gone less than fifteen minutes.

When I returned, our room reeked of diarrhea: a sharp, sickly odor. The stink hit me as soon as I opened the door. Emily lay face-down on the bed again, but I saw that she'd changed into her pajamas, a t-shirt and cotton pants.

"You're such a mom, Kat." Emily chuckled softly into the pillow. "You should really leave, though."

"I'm not leaving."

"Well..." She rolled her shoulders back, sighing. "In that case, I guess you can keep massaging me."

Wordlessly, I spread my thighs and straddled her butt. I pressed my palms against her lower back, feeling her warm skin through her t-shirt.

"Is that good?" I managed to ask.

"Yeah," she grunted. "Maybe it'll take my mind off my stomach."

Rhythmically, I moved my hands up and down Emily's spine, rubbing her. Her body sank into the bed as I applied pressure.

"I probably shouldn't fart right now," she mumbled.

I laughed softly. "Probably not."

I continued massaging her. My thighs squeezed her body, and I felt my crotch pressing on her butt cheeks. I was trying hard not to hump her, but I couldn't help grinding my hips a little as I moved my shoulders. My breath was getting quicker as the minutes passed.

I didn't speak; I was almost gasping. I let my hands drift up her bare back beneath her shirt, touching her skin directly. She wore no bra.

Soon, Emily's breath deepened, and I felt her body easing into a restful nap. I moved my hands back downwards again, enjoying the feel of her skin.

I couldn't understand why I felt so horny. Emily was sick, and the room stank of diarrhea. I should feel nurturing, I thought, not sexual.

But my body needed to fuck.

Carefully, I began to grind against her butt.

I was wearing jeans. As I straddled Emily's ass and moved my hips, I felt the tough denim against my crotch.

When I was younger, I used to hump things: pillows, the edge of the bed, anything I could mount. I didn't know it was sexual; I just knew the pressure felt good.

Now I was humping Emily's ass, feeling that same pressure. My body moved automatically back and forth, grinding against her butt cheeks with a subtle rhythm. My jeans did most of the work rubbing me.

I knew this was wrong, but I couldn't help myself. My eyes closed, and one hand moved to my breast.

Emily showed no signs of stirring. I humped her ass as hard as I dared, shifting slightly to increase the pressure on my crotch. I unbuttoned my shirt and worked a hand beneath my bra, so I could tweak my nipple between two fingers.

This went on for a couple minutes. I grunted softly with each movement of my hips, and my face grew hot.

I need to stop, I thought. This isn't consensual...

Then, Emily began to fart in her sleep.

I heard a sharp, small toot from her butt. Even through my jeans, I felt a puff of air against my crotch. It was just gas, luckily.

Another fart popped out. And then another. A sour smell filled my nostrils, similar to the diarrhea stink that already hung in the room.

The moment felt so intimate: my best friend, deeply asleep, letting her little farts out. For some reason, I found it incredibly sexual, too. My skin blazed with heat, and I felt my heartbeat pulsing in my crotch.

I began humping Emily harder, bracing my hand against the bed. I barely cared about waking her up now. With each breath, faster and faster, I hissed aloud.

Somewhere deep inside me, I could feel an approaching orgasm... but I couldn't quite reach it. Not like this.

I climbed off the bed, unbuttoned my jeans, and jammed my hand down the front. My fingers found my swollen clit, and I grunted at the shock it gave me.

With my other hand, I touched Emily's butt. My thumb ran lightly down the center, across her little farty asshole... and then downwards, towards her sweet pussy...

To my shock, she squirmed away from me. "Kat, stop..." I heard her whisper.

I froze.

When I cum, I sometimes get a weird feeling like I'm about to pee. My clit got sensitive, almost painful, as it continued to throb. The feelings faded slowly.

"Sorry," I finally said.

Emily fell back asleep instantly. She didn't seem aware of what I'd done.

I took a deep breath, shaking my head. I can't believe I did that, I thought. I had just sexually assaulted my best friend.

But I was too exhausted to think about it. Still breathing hard, I crawled onto the bed and lay down next to Emily. She didn't stir.

I stared at her sleeping face for a while as my heartbeat gradually slowed. My body felt drained. I didn't remember closing my eyes, but I drifted off in a matter of minutes.

Soon I was dreaming, sleeping deeply on top of the covers, with a sense of terrible guilt and yearning in my heart...

* * *

In the middle of the night, I had more diarrhea.

When I sat on the toilet and allowed myself to loosen up, a river of hot liquid began pouring out of me. It sounded like a bucket of water being dumped into the bowl, and it smelled like death. It seemed to weaken me as it exited my body.

I emerged pale and shaking from the bathroom.

Kat still slept on top of the covers, with her shirt and pants unbuttoned. I had a feeling she'd been masturbating.